“Let her go, Victoria.”

“Dean, I need her,” Mom begs. “She’s my only daughter.”

“You two can have each other.” I turn to leave, but my pride gets the best of me. Another question I’ve always wanted to know the answer to, yet never had the courage to ask comes flying out of my mouth with little warning. “Why do you hate me so much?” I ask him.

“It’s not a matter of hate. I just never believed you were mine. Eventually I found out the truth. You may think I was the only one who cheated, Sophie. But your Mother wasn’t faithful either. You’re the proof.”

“Dean!” Mom cries. “Why would you tell her that?”

“Don’t yell at me, woman. Tell Sophie how she got that scholarship. Enlighten her. Maybe then she’ll stop only hating me.”

“Mom?” I question. “What’s he talking about?”

She sobs harder. “Sophie. You weren’t ever supposed to find out. Dean, how could you!”

“Tell me!” I shout. She flinches from the bite of my words and falls onto the floor.

“Coach, Coach Evans is your Father, Sophie. I couldn’t risk my marriage so I begged him to stay away. But it failed anyway. I failed.”

“My Father?” I question in disbelief. Coach Evans is my father.

She can’t get her words out and nods her head instead. I have to sit down. Instead of pulling out a chair at the table, I sit on the floor where I’m standing. My thoughts are running a mile a minute and I remember the scholarship he just brought up.

“H-How did I end up with the scholarship, Mom? Did you bribe him?”

“No, honey. No. You earned it. He’s wanted you since you were a freshman, but I wouldn’t let him take you from me. I was so scared it was about more than just the team, Sophie.” She hiccups and struggles to get her words out. Reality crashing down hard on her, but even harder on me. “Gymnastics was my dream once, too. Just like Adam—Coach Evans. We were working together at the gym here in town and made a mistake one night after we closed up. It was just that one time, but I got pregnant. He wanted more from me, but I was already married to Dean.

Regardless of the facts, Sophie, I never regretted you. I didn’t. But Dean was already suspicious of the two of us. Once I quit my job and didn’t see Adam every day, I thought it would get better with Dean, but it didn’t. He always knew without me having to say a word. Everything was confirmed when Adam came to see you and I wouldn’t let him. Things got so ugly between the three of us, and you didn’t deserve a life like that. I’m so sorry, honey.”

“You did this. All these years I’ve hated myself because of him, Mom. You could have stopped him and you never did. You let me live a life I hated.”

“I was wrong. I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry,” she pleads. But her apologizes are too late. The damage has been done.

“I hate you so much.” There’s so much more I want to say to her—things she deserves to hear from me, but I can’t. Instead, I storm out of the house, tears streaming down my cheeks. Unsure of what to do or where to go, I drive. I make it just outside of town before my emotions strangle me and I have to pull over. Climbing over the passenger seat, I stumble to the ground. My knee is bloody from the fall, but I don’t have time to pay attention to it. Without any coaxing, I throw up along the side of the busy roadway. Not giving a damn who sees me as I painfully gasp for air. Each breath I take hurts, but I welcome it. I understand it. Something I’ll never be able to say about my mom’s confessions.

Propped up against my dirty car tire, my ass on the asphalt, I sob. Unable to get up, I let the blood dry on my skin where some loose gravel has imbedded itself underneath my skin. I should clean it up, but I don’t even feel the pain.

Numb. Completely numb.

I’ve never loved my dad, yet I mourn the loss of the only father figure I’ve ever known. He may have treated me like shit all my life, but after learning the reasons why he hated me, it makes me appreciate having never known the truth. Maybe he didn’t hate me as much as he hated the reminder of what I represented—a wife who strayed, who cheated. “He should have fucking left us,” I yell into the open air. There’s nobody around to hear me, yet it feels like the right thing to do. I beg someone to hear me—to understand the pain inside of me.

Coach Evans is my dad. No matter how many times I remind myself, it doesn’t make it any easier to comprehend. I’ve spent over three months both fearing and trying to impress my own father. Every decent part of the miserable life I’ve lived has been a lie. I fucking hate my mom and what she did to me. And I fucking hate gymnastics. It’s dead to me. The both of them.

I’m not sure how long I sit on the filthy ground before I drag my tired body back inside the car.

I can barely see out my swollen eyes, but I drive toward school, unsure of what to do next. I can’t get into my dorm over break and I have no money. The little bit I have won’t feed me let alone be enough to afford a place to stay.

There’s absolutely no way I want my mom’s money, but I stop at the next bank anyway to use the ATM. Withdrawing enough money to stay at a hotel for a few days, I don’t even feel guilty. It’s the least she can do after the bomb they dropped on me. I’ll consider it a parting gift. An I wish I was never your daughter gift.

As I finish tucking the cash into my pocket, my phone chimes again. I’m surprised I have five waiting texts from Kipton and only one from my mom. Her’s doesn’t beg me to return—instead encouraging me to be safe wherever I end up. Like she gives a shit. I finish reading her text as another comes through. One last attempt to convince me how sorry she is. So am I, mom. I’m sorry I was ever born.

I respond quickly to Kipton, never letting him know I’m in the middle of a crisis. Instead, I tell him I made it safely and plan on spending the rest of the night with my mom. Refusing to ruin his time off with my shitty home life, it’s the only way I can justify the lie. He deserves so much better than me.

The first hotel I find is too expensive, but I eventually come across one about an hour away from school that fits my budget. I wanted to drive further south before having to stop, but I’m too tired. It’s dark and I’ve already spent most of the day on the road.

Once I check in, the first thing I do is raid the vending machine. I only have enough quarters and ones to buy some water, two packs of crackers, and a pack of candy. It’ll have to hold me awhile, not that I have much of an appetite anyway.

Going through the motions of a shower, I rest under the hot spray of water. Each drop that hits me washes away a little of the hope I’ve been gathering the past few weeks. Hope that my life was finally headed in the right direction, to a place that would bring me happiness in a world I didn’t fear at every turn.

I’m cold when I pull the shower curtain open and stare at my pale skin in the mirror. From the outside I look like every other girl on campus—normal. But inside, that’s where the hatred resides. Glancing at the toilet, I want to give in again, but there’s nothing left to give.

Caged in by my thoughts, I turn on the TV, the noise helping the silence from being too overwhelming. The pajamas I dig out are wrinkled and thin, the blankets are scratchy, and the bed a little lumpy. But at least I have a bed to sleep in and a roof over my head.

I try to rest, but their confessions replay over and over in my mind. The weight of the truth is more powerful than any lie they’ve told me over the years. Not wanting to spiral completely out of control, I rifle through my suitcase for my journal. As fast as the words come to me, I jot them down.

I’m nothing. Lies. All lies. He never loved me. I’m not his. She lied. Cheaters. Lies. I’m a mistake. They never wanted me. Lies. He’s not my father. They didn’t want me. They don’t want me. They never wanted me. He knows I’m his. He doesn’t want me.